What these paradoxes of opposites are all about is a phenomenology in which it is part of the very nature of passionate conflict to turn one into his own enemy. “We become what we hate” is an old yoga maxim. And in watching the conflict of the Irish Troubles, the Dublin yogi, George William Russell, developed the maxim into a principle of political science: “By intensity of hatred nations create in themselves the characters they imagine in their enemies. Hence it is that all passionate conflicts result in the interchange of characteristics.” — William Irwin Thompson, New York Times, July 25, 1971.
***
Are you becoming what you’ve always hated? ― Charles Bukowski, (Goodreads).
Brian Kaylor, a Baptist minister and editor-in-chief of the Word&Way website, sounded a familiar — and chilling — note in his column on Elon Musk’s recent attacks on Lutheran Social Services, the Episcopal bishop of Washington and the Catholic Church’s work with immigrants and refugees. In his blog A Public Witness, Kaylor said:
We might need to update that famous saying by German Lutheran theologian Martin Niemöller. First they came for the Episcopalians … then they came for the Catholics … then they came for the Lutherans.
Niemöller. of course, spoke primarily of the persecution of Jews in Nazi Germany, First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out— Because I was not a socialist. […] Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me. Kaylor updated it to reflect the new reality of Trump 2.0:
The first week of the new Trump administration was filled with attacks on the religious liberty rights of Episcopalians after Episcopal Bishop Mariann Budde asked the new president during an inauguration prayer service to “have mercy” on LGBTQ children and migrant workers. The second week featured Vice President J.D. Vance attacking the Catholic Church for assisting immigrants and refugees as he made inaccurate claims to suggest they care more about money than people.
Over the weekend, another Christian group found itself in the crosshairs of Trumpian figures: the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. Despite the word “evangelical” in the group’s name, the ELCA joins the Episcopal Church as one of “seven sisters” of the mainline Protestant world that have historically had a lot of political and cultural influence. But now, in the new age of Trump fueled by billionaire oligarchs and charismatic “prophets” preaching Christian Nationalism, these Christian denominations are denounced by powerful figures as non-Christian. [Links in the original.]
The first shot was fired by ex-Gen. Mike Flynn, who posted to “X” (formerly Twitter) a list of Lutheran not-for-profits, claiming (without evidence): “Now it’s the ‘Lutheran’ faith (this use of ‘religion’ as a money laundering operation must end). Lutheran Family Services and affiliated organizations receive massive amounts of taxpayer dollars, and the numbers speak for themselves.” [The scare quotes, syntax and parentheses are Flynn’s.] Flynn didn’t explain exactly what he imagines the numbers are whispering to him, but Musk chimed in shortly afterward: “The DOGE team is rapidly shutting down these illegal payments.”
Do these broadsides signal an assault on mainline Protestants? There’s good reason to hope not, but I’ve got to admit seeing Pastor Niemöller’s aphorism quoted in this context sent a little chill down this Lutheran’s spine. What if? So far, Musk’s “Department of Government Efficiency” (which isn’t a department and shows an extremely limited understanding of government and, for that matter, of efficiency); it gives off more Keystone Kops than fascist vibes. This outfit couldn’t make the trains run on time if they had a magic wand.
On the other hand, there’s no love lost between Trump’s movement and mainline church leaders, including the Catholic bishops’ conference (about as conservative a bunch as you can find anywhere). Here’s Kaylor again:
Alongside his rant, Flynn posted a screenshot of grants received by Lutheran organizations from the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services. Although the focus of his attack seemed to be on immigrant and refugee assistance — things now targeted by the Trump administration — the nonprofits he attacked also assist with foster care, adoption, head start, food pantries, elder care, resources for victims of domestic abuse, and more. A few days earlier, Flynn had joined Vance in leveling similar attacks against the Catholic Church. As for the Lutheran groups, he pledged to “examine them all and shut them down,” and he labeled one ELCA-affiliated group a “snake oil organization.” [Links in the original.]
I’m inclined to agree with Kaylor that the Lutherans may be just collateral damage in a larger brouhaha over government funding, USAID grants and, oh, I don’t know, maybe “wokeism,” whatever that might be. But there’s still that little shiver down the back of my neck. First they came for the Jews — The world changes, ever so slightly, when you learn they’re coming after people like you. It looks more and more like a reality TV show. But there’s that little nagging thought. What if?
There’s still good reason to take the drama seriously. (There are so many “yes buts” here, I’m starting to get whiplash.) I don’t think Elon Musk is going to be rounding up Lutherans and shipping us off to Guantanamo Bay, but it seems like America is increasingly polarized along religious lines. And it seems like it got worse all of a sudden after Trump was elected.
But (here we go again!) last week Katherine Kelaidis, a research associate at the Institute of Orthodox Christian Studies in Cambridge, England, did a deep dive into American history for Religion News Service and found a longstanding drift toward ethno-religious extremism, on the one hand, and secular hostility toward organized religion on the other.
Caught in the middle are mainline denominations, says Kelaidis, like the Episcopalians (and the Lutherans). Writing after Episcopal Bishop Mariann Budde drew partisan fire for asking Trump to show mercy to LGBTQ and immigrant communities but before the Lutherans found themselves in in Elon Musk’s crosshairs, Kelaidis said:
[…] Though Methodists and Baptists were more numerous and preachers of other traditions more famous, the Episcopal Church secured its position as the faith of America’s ruling class and the public face of America’s civic Christianity.
Flexible, moderate and reformable, it was a faith for a democratic nation, defined by progress and change, and not incidentally it presented a theological and liturgical “via media” between Protestant rulers and an increasingly Catholic populace.
Cozying up to the ruling class was not an unmixed blessing — it never has been, going all the way back to the Roman Emperor Constantine — but Kelaidis isn’t wrong when she says the Episcopal Church offered a middle way that took the rough edges off American Calvinism for many years. But, she added, the “emergence of the religious right beginning in the 1960s changed all that.”
I like Kelaidis’ analysis of the past 40 or 50 years because it takes into account the consequent politicization in Catholic and Protestant churches alike. It’s worth quoting at some length:
The product of social changes of the mid-20th century, the religious right owes its existence as much to Southern evangelical rage at the Civil Rights Movement as it does to conservative Catholic anger at the Second Vatican Council. The alliance of old enemies still prospers by invoking common fears.
But the religious right was also an implicit attack on the character of America’s civil religion, seeking to conform its shape to evangelical Protestantism and its theology to Catholic integralism, an international movement that advocates for the establishment of what are in essence Catholic theocracies. The religious right’s greatest success, on which all its other success has relied, has been in replacing the moderate, adaptable and tolerant theology of mainline Christianity with this idiosyncratic version of evangelicalism, advancing, as the political right has, less on Christian love than in exploiting intolerance and bigotry.
The results have been disastrous, paving the way to a triumph of white Christian nationalism.
On the other side — the liberal, secular, Democratic side — there is a strange fantasy that the negative influence of these extreme-right religionists can be somehow pressured out of the public square through the separation of church and state promised by the establishment clause. This group seems to hope that slash-and-burn anti-religiosity will somehow guarantee that religion plays no role in the decision-making of voters.
I’ve studied church history enough to quibble with some of Kelaidis’ broad historical conclusions — I think there has always been a markedly evangelical Calvinist strain in American religion — but I think she’s absolutely right about one thing: Mainline Christians are caught now between a rock and a hard place. And Bishop Budde faced a torrent of abuse (and raised eyebrows) over her homily at the National Cathedral.
Trump’s reaction was predictable. Budde’s sermon was “nasty,” a description he favors for women who aren’t properly subservient to him. “The so-called Bishop who spoke at the National Prayer Service on Tuesday morning was a Radical Left hard line Trump hater,” he posted on social media. The Rev. Franklin Graham said the cathedral was “taken over by gay activists.” And US Rep. Mike Collins, R-Ga., said, “The person giving this sermon should be added to the deportation list.” (For the record: Budde was born in New Jersey.)
For its part, the Episcopal Church (USA) told Jack Jenkins of RNS, “She is a valued and trusted pastor to her diocese and colleague to bishops throughout our church. We stand by Bishop Budde and her appeal for the Christian values of mercy and compassion.”
So there! Take that, General Flynn.
That leaves the question: What’s a middle-of-the-road mainline Christian to do when the likes of Gen. Flynn call his church a so-called quote-quote wink-wink “religion” that goes in for the federal crime of money laundering? Full disclosure: I’m a Lutheran now, but I grew up in the Episcopal Church. I’ve been known to refer to myself as a “Luther-o-palian,” so guys like Flynn and Trump raise my hard-line Radical Left hackles.
But I try hard not to hate Trump, no matter how nasty he gets.
There’s an old saying floating around — so old, in fact, I don’t remember where I first heard it — that warns if we give in to hatred, we turn into whatever, or whomever, we hate. William Irwin Thompson, the poet and cultural critic, once said in the New York Times it was old yoga maxim. He added:
And in watching the conflict of the Irish Troubles, the Dublin yogi, George William Russell, developed the maxim into a principle of political science: “By intensity of hatred nations create in themselves the characters they imagine in their enemies. Hence it is that all passionate conflicts result in the interchange of characteristics.”
(It’s worth remembering here the Troubles in the north of Ireland weren’t just political; they also involved religious hatred.) All the more reason for us to step back from hatred as we drift toward religious conflict in America. In an interview with Time magazine, Budde offered a good way of dealing with it when she was asked about Trump’s comments about her. It’s worth quoting at length:
Trump called you a “Radical left hard line Trump hater.” What’s your response to that?
I don’t hate President Trump. I strive not to hate anyone and I dare say that I am not of the ‘radical left’ either, whatever that means. That is not who I am.
He said you’re not very good at your job.
That is for other people to judge, and so he is certainly entitled to his opinion.
And he said you should apologize. Will you apologize?
I am not going to apologize for asking for mercy for others.
Asked if she feared for her safety, Budde said, “The real people who are in danger are those who are fearful of being deported. The real people who are in danger are the young people who feel they cannot be themselves and be safe and who are prone to all kinds of both external attacks and suicidal responses to them.” She added:
I have a lot of support and a lot of safety around me, so no, I’m not feeling personally at risk. Although people have said they do wish me dead, and that’s a little heartbreaking. It was a pretty mild sermon. It certainly wasn’t a fire and brimstone sermon. It was as respectful and as universal as I could with the exception of making someone who has been entrusted with such enormous influence and power to have mercy on those who are most vulnerable.
I can’t think of anything I can add to that.
Links and Citations
The Right Rev. Mariann Budde, “‘I Am Not Going to Apologize’: The Bishop Who Confronted Trump Speaks Out,” interview by Brian Bennett, Time, Jan. 22, 2025 https://time.com/7209222/bishop-mariann-budde-trump/.
Jack Jenkins, “After eyebrow-raising sermon to Trump, Bishop Budde beset with criticism and praise,” Religion News Service, Jan. 22, 2025 https://religionnews.com/2025/01/22/after-eye-catching-sermon-to-trump-bishop-budde-beset-with-criticism-and-praise/.
Katherine Kelaidis, “Bishop Budde went viral because she showed us what’s wrong with American religion,” Religion News Service, Jan. 31, 2025 https://religionnews.com/2025/01/31/bishop-budde-went-viral-because-she-showed-us-whats-wrong-with-american-religion/.
William Irwin Thompson, “‘We Become What We Hate.” New York Times, July 25, 1971 https://www.nytimes.com/1971/07/25/archives/we-become-what-we-hate.html.
[Uplinked Feb. xx, 2025]
Ordinary Time 